


DAISIES

by potboiler



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Dementia, Disability, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series AU, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner Lives (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potboiler/pseuds/potboiler
Summary: There are days when I do not even recognize myself.I gaze into a passing mirror and see a wretched, dying stranger staring back at me.I let my eyes linger, and drink in the sight.In some ways, I have not changed at all.I was terrifying to behold long before I entered this state of living death.AU in which Shadow Weaver survives her sacrifice in S5 and lives on, severely wounded and paralyzed, watching the two girls she struggled to control grow up without her.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 114





	1. I

_The ritual is well-established by now._

_A nurse walks in just as the first light of day creeps in through the window._

_She draws the curtains open and a beam of warm moonlight strikes me in the face._

_I am coaxed into the waking world._

_Yet I do not want to be awake. I do not even want to be alive._

_Yet here I am. Awake. Alive._

_My dreams have been dark as of late. So when I open my eyes, it is as if I am emerging from a cave._

_The sparkling light brings no clarity. Just pain and blindness._

_Everything is so bright these days. As it should be._

_The Heart of Etheria has been broken and its magic freed to the four corners of the world._

_And I am imprisoned._

_I behold the walls of my room. My cell, if you will._

_Four eternal white walls enclosing a white bed upon which I rest in a state of undying ruin.  
_

_My eyes wander._

_On one side of my bed, daisies sit idle in a vase. Gifts from the Queen._

_On the other side, a life-support machine hums and displays my heart rate, my blood pressure._

_All this assures the resident healers that-_

_although I cannot speak_

_and I cannot move_

_and I can barely even breathe_

_I am still_

_inexplicably_

_alive._

_A nurse opens the window. I hear unseen birds sing in the trees outside._

_The noise is...irritating._

_I reflexively try to conjure a bolt of magic to silence them._

_They keep singing._

_Infuriated, I bend my entire mind to the task of conjuring a hand of shadow to slam the window shut._

_The window remains open._

_I try to summon a single speck of light. Something even a child could have done at Mystacor._

_Nothing._

_..._

_My mind screams and rattles the bars of its cage._

_I am a living prison. My voice, my thoughts, my magic - they are all trapped inside me._

_I have been like this for some time._

_I do not know how long._

_The days are passing through me like thin mist._

_Sometimes weeks pass and I barely notice them._

_I blink, and the view outside my window changes from morning to night._

_The nurses and other patients in this ward are my only companions._

_Even if I could speak, I would not deign to converse with simple folk like them._

_I never derived much joy from the company of others._

_Not since Micah, anyway..._

_But still, it..._

_...disturbs me._

_My mind is like a rock, beset by crashing waves._

_With every year that passes, a little piece falls off and is washed away to oblivion._

_When it is lost, it is lost forever. There is no hope of regrowth, not for me._

_I am...losing myself..._

_Some days, I wake up and it feels like I am surrounded by ghosts on all sides._

_People speak to me and I cannot hear them. Their voices are muffled. Their faces are blurred._

_And then I forget everything._

_It takes me a long time even just to remember who I am, and how I came to be here._

_I suppose, one day, I shall not remember at all._

_But for now, I..._

_..._

_I remember..._

_..._

_I remember_ **_they_ ** _visited my prison._

_Once._

_Once was too much for them._

_When they sat beside my bed, they huddled together and trembled._

_Just like when I scolded them_

_and hurt them_

_as children._

_One cried when she saw what I had become._

_She fell against her companion and shed tears into her fur._

_Her companion sat silently and looked at me for some time._

_Ears wilted flat, eyes wide._

_She did not know what to say._

_I can't imagine what she must have been thinking about me._

_The little beast still hated me. There can be no doubt about that._

_But my speech at the Heart of Etheria must have left her rather...confused._

_..._

_What was I thinking?_

_Would I have ever said I was proud_ _of_ **her** _if I wasn't certain I would die soon afterward?_

_That I would never have to explain myself?_

_That I would never have to see her impudent, mismatched eyes again?_

_..._

_The ritual proceeds._

_The nurses busy themselves grooming me and taking readings from the machines._

_My eyes, the only two parts of my body I can still move with total freedom, watch them as they work._

_A young nurse meets my gaze as she leans over to adjust the sheets._

“Good morning, Miss Weaver,” _she says._ “I am glad to see you awake today.”

_And then she smiles. As if me being awake to experience this living hell was somehow a good thing. Ignorant wench._

_I hit her with the most hateful glare I can muster, hoping to strike some fear into that irritating, naive face. But to no avail._

_Just like everybody else in this wretched place the nurse mistakes my forced silence for calm._

_She continues to smile at me and even has the gall to fluff my pillow._

_She is being kind to me. Taking pity on me._

_'This poor old woman', she must be thinking._

_'So weak. So helpless. Nobody to visit her."_

_My imprisoned mind boils at the indignity._

_Do they realize who I am?_

_Do they know there was a time when nobody would have_ **_dared_ ** _to speak to Shadow Weaver unbidden?_

_Does anyone remember?_

_Do_ **_I_ ** _even remember, anymore?_

_My eyes twitch involuntarily as, after a brief night’s respite, my body resumes its interminable aching._

_For a few moments, I relive the pain of being engulfed in flames in the Heart of Etheria._

_I recall the sensation of being torn apart thread-by-thread by the First One’s imploding defense mechanism with crystal clarity._

_Then, eventually, the agony shrinks to pain._

_The pain grows milder until it becomes mere discomfort._

_In a few moments, I finally return to what could laughingly be called my ‘normal’ state of mind._

_The young nurse notices my heart rate increase. Her brow furrows in innocent concern._

“Are you in pain, Miss Weaver?” _she asks._ “Do you need painkillers? Blink once for no, twice for yes.”

_I stare at her, unblinking until she leaves me alone._

_…_

_The ritual is entering its final stages now._

_The nurses’ inspections return a clean bill of health beyond my unbreakable paralysis._

_I watch as the younger nurse returns with my wheelchair._

_The nurses call it a ‘wheelchair’ despite the fact it is without wheels. It hovers above the ground by some contrivance of magic or technology._

_It was a gift. From Hordak’s purple-haired concubine. She was one of my first visitors when I was entombed within this hospital._

_Apparently, I was of great scientific interest. And I was helpless to stop her from talking._

_And talking. And talking. And_ **_talking._ **

_In the end, the nurses had to drag her away before she conducted 'tests'. But not before she shared a curious fact about the First One's defenses._

_Apparently, they were designed to annihilate lifeforms down to their tiniest molecules.  
_

_So according to all known physical laws, I should have died in that chamber._

_If I still had a voice, I would have agreed with her._

_I should have died._

_I should not have lived. Not like this._

_..._

_Where is the princess of Dryl these days?_

_I have not seen that little tinkerer for some time. At least for a year._

_Or two. Or five._

_Perhaps even longer_

_I am numb to time in this prison_

_Either way, she is long gone. No doubt she is off exploring the Known Universe with her new "husband"._

_The prospect is...nauseating._

_The founder of the Horde roams freely throughout the stars while I sit here in my cage.  
_

_No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose._

_Still, life has never been easy on me before._

_Why should it start now?_

_..._

_I feel a brief sensation of weightlessness as the nurses brace their arms under my shoulders and knees._

_They place my limp, uncooperative body into a wheelchair._

_I slump against the padded seat, hair sprawled across my eyes._

_One of the nurses reaches down and brushes my raven locks away from my eyes._

_Her innocent face, surrounded by a white hood, fills my vision._

_The nurse keeps herself professional. But I know she sees her patients as friends._

_She looks at me with love and concern._

_I am not used to seeing people look at me this way._

_I am used to pain._

_I am used to fear._

_…_

_The ritual is almost over._

_Warm water washes the soap from my back._

_The nurses clean me quickly and in silence._

_They know I do not like this._

_At least in my bed, I derive a certain queen-like dignity from their ministrations._

_But there is no dignity in being upturned and bathed like an infant._

_I close my eyes and wait._

_..._

_It is a very strange sensation, being completely trapped by your own flesh._

_My mind has never grown accustomed to it._

_There are moments where I feel as though I should be able to stand up through my own will._

_The prison doors inside my head seem to creak open, and I feel myself being pulled upwards..._

_Then the moment passes and the doors swing shut._

_I remain imprisoned._

_The paralysis girds my limbs like steel chains._

_I can almost feel the cold metal biting into me, imprisoning me, weighing down on me with such force it feels like my bones might break._

_But as I realize the chains are simply not there, the truth hits me._

_And it is merciless in its utter simplicity._

_My bones simply cannot bear their own weight anymore._

_Because I am..._

_...weak._

_..._

_This hurts me more than I ever imagined._

_I have sought power every moment of my life._

_And I have done terrible things to avoid weakness._

_I watched my old teacher pulled screaming into the Spell of Obtainment._

_I was complicit with warlords and slavemasters and child-stealers._

_I profaned the Black Garnet. I enslaved it. Chained it. Drank from it like a leech at a vein._

_I asked for blood, sweat, and tears from scared little girls who only asked for a mother._

_All so I could have another day of strength._

_...and it was all for nothing._

_Compared to the crushing weight of weakness, death seems as light as a feather._

_…_

_After my latest ablution, the nurse wheels me back to my bedside._

_I wait as she attends to my wardrobe and prepares to dress me._

_My old robes were burned away in the Heart of Etheria._

_Castaspella provided a new robe when I first moved into this prison._

_So I am now attired as I was in my Mystacor days._

_The soft fabric brings back memories._

_Of wide-eyed students, lights in the sky, the smell of ancient parchment._

_And tea on the balcony with Micah._

_Bitterness eats into me - like poison - as I am reminded of the world I have lost._

_But there's no denying it. This is the best I have looked in a long time._

_If_ _I am to be imprisoned in this living death, I might as well be imprisoned in style._

...

_The view from my window opens out into a vast garden._

_I have never seen so many flowers._

_I may be rotting, but Etheria is in full bloom._

_There is so much magic in the world now. Even the air is saturated with it._

_It sickens me to recall how desperately I clung to every little bit of magic I could find, back during the war._

_Now, there is more magic than I could ever use in a single lifetime..._

_...and I cannot use it. It won't listen to me, not anymore._

_Suddenly, one of the nurses begins brushing my hair. She is gentle as a lamb, but still interrupts my train of thought._

_I try to bind her with magic. Nothing too much, just some mild agony. To teach her a lesson._

_But the spell dies in my head, as it always does._

_The nurse smiles, unaware of my inner fury._

“We’re going to see the garden,” _she says, as her comb sweeps through my locks._ “How would that make you feel?”

_Miserable._

_Who does this girl think I am?_

_Perhaps a stroll through the garden would bring relief to a lesser mind, like that plant-obsessed dunce that Scorpia is infatuated with._

_But not me. Not the Weaver of Shadows, the Mystacor’s Finest Daughter-_

“Your daisies will be in full bloom.”

_…she is right…_

_...I do miss my daisies…_

_…_

_The nurse guides my hovering wheelchair over a carpet of lush grass._

_We are not alone in this little paradise._

_Unseen lifeforms buzz in the vast acreage of the hospital's therapy garden._

_Sounds of soft conversation float through the air._

_I have seen many patients come and go through this place._

_Or perhaps I am seeing the same patients, many different times._

_My eyes have become...unreliable..._

_Some are victims of the war. Wounded in mind and body._

_They come to the garden to meditate. Or they walk unsteadily on new, mechanical limbs._

_I see someone teetering across the soft grass on a synthetic leg._

_They take two steps and begin to fall but are caught by a blonde nurse. He smiles and tells them,_ "You're doing great. I'm proud of you."

_I clench my eyes shut in disgust. Is this what Etheria has become?_

_A place where people are praised just for walking? As if they were an infant taking their first steps?_

_I would never have tolerated such mediocrity from my own chil-_

_my_ **_cadets_ **

_..._

_I will never see them again, will I?_

_..._

_Not all of the inmates in this prison of health and happiness were on the same side, during the war._

_Some bear marks of **Horde** upbringing. _

_They may have shed their helmets and stun-rods, but I can see it in their eyes_

_Their Horde training is plain in their stiff movements, and the way their arms fold behind their back when they stand._

_And they always seem frightened that someone is going to punish them._

_They must have learned these habits in the Fright Zone when they were very young._

_Perhaps they learned them from_ **_me?_ **

_They must think it's all over. They must think they're safe now._

_Let them feign happiness as much as they please._

_They_ _may never be as relaxed as their Bright Moon colleagues._

_Lessons learned by fear and pain are hard to unlearn._

...

_I understand why those two have abandoned me here._

_I raised them to be dutiful. Without sentiment._

_No matter how much it hurt._

_I did what I had to do._

_Even if I did_ ruin people

_Even if they came and sat by my bedside, they would not recognize me._

_There are days when I do not even recognize myself._

_I gaze into a passing mirror and see a wretched, dying stranger staring back at me._

_I let my eyes linger, and drink in the sight._

_In some ways, I have not changed at all._

_I was terrifying to behold long before I entered this state of living death._

_The Spell of Obtainment burned through my skin like fire through dry paper and bade me to hide behind a mask._

_But this time, I am not just beaten and burned._

_I am spent. Flat. Immobile._

_Like a sea-creature that beaches itself on the shores of Salineas and lays there, twitching, unable to live._

_And unable to die._

_..._

_Finally, the nurse brings me to a shaded corner of the gardens._

_My eyes are greeted by a bed of daisies, still wet with dew._

_The nurse was right. They are in full bloom._

_At least_ **_one_ ** _part of me is still healthy._

"Would you like to be alone?" _the nurse asks, leaning into my field of vision._

_My eyes flick up at her. Blink. Blink._

_She nods and leaves without a word._

_I know she will not stray far but it is pleasing to forget my dependency on her._

_My eyes focus vacantly on my prize daisies. The scent of them opens up doors in my memory.  
_

_I fall through them, letting myself grow so numb I can trick my own mind to believe it is...elsewhere...  
_

_Soon I am no longer confined to a wheelchair in a hospital._

_I am tending to the gardens at Mystacor while I give a lecture to my students. They hang on my every word, enraptured..._

_Then my peaceful dream is shattered as a small hand reaches into my cone of vision._

_I snap out of it and look up at my daisies._

_Chills run down my inert spine as a hand reaches towards a daisy, grabs it, and begins to haul the delicate flower upwards.  
_

_As if by reflex, my mind pulses. I try to cast a bolt of pure magical hatred towards the unseen vandal._

_Of course, nothing happens. I can only watch.  
_

_I feel something in my chest start to burn._

_Unable to move my head, my eyes strain to catch a glimpse of this awful creature._

_My eyes following the hand up the length of a furry arm which leads to an unkempt head of hair and two twitching ears..._

_No._

_No, it can't be._

_It_ **_can't._ **

_There is a cat-child ruining my daisies._

_She pulls at the delicate white petals as if they were weeds, humming to herself and unaware that I am staring at her._

_Suddenly an unwelcome and unfamiliar sensation is rising in my lungs._

_At first, it is very small, almost barely distinguishable from my other aches and pains._

_But then it rises up. Like fire._

_It burns me from the inside out, and I cannot keep it inside. I have to let it escape._

_I feel my lips open for the first time since the Heart of Etheria._

“Cat…ra…”

_The cat-child turns. I see two eyes as bright and blue as a cloudless sky._

_Her face is surprised. Innocent. I almost recognize her but she does not recognize me._

“I’m not Catra, lady. I’m Finn!” _She tips her head to the side and shows off her fangs in a broad smile._ “Catra’s my momma! Do you know her?”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Content warning: referenced child abuse, referenced suicide]

_I stare at the child_ _who calls herself 'Finn'._

_Staring is currently the only thing I am capable of doing with this body._

_But even if I wasn't paralyzed, I doubt I would have been unable to do anything except stare.  
_

_My mind is at a loss to process the sight in front of me._

_This is...Catra and Adora's daughter._

_This is something that two mortal enemies have loved into being._

_She is a living, breathing miracle.  
_

_Yet she just sits there, wholly unaware of the extraordinary implications of her existence.  
_

_I stare at the child, and she gazes back at me from within the bed of daisies.  
_

"Um…” _Finn threads her claws together anxiously._ "Are you okay, lady?"

 _I continue to stare at her until she squirms in discomfort and her_ _ears flatten nervously against the sides of her head._

_Typical magicat body language. I recognize it immediately.  
_

_The resemblance to her mother - to **both** her mothers - is uncanny. _

_Her blonde hair, the feline cast to her features, her lambent blue eyes._

_Yes, there is no doubt about her parentage. No doubt at all.  
_

_Suddenly a wave of confusion sweeps over me._

_For the briefest instant, my mind bursts out of its apathy and hungers for answers.  
_

_Is this the child of She-Ra?_

_Does she share in her power?_

_What is she doing in this hospital?  
_

_Does this child even know who I am?_

_How old is she?_

_...and how old am **I?** _

_As these questions run riot in my head, the cat-child stands up and steps closer to me._

_She is not afraid of me._

_she should be_

_She waves at me and I see that her claws are tucked inside gardening gloves._

"Can you talk?" _she asks._

_I stare at her until it becomes clear I cannot answer._

_Finn seems to consider this._

"The nurse said if you blink once, it means no, and if you blink twice it means yes. Yes?" _  
_

_I fix her with an unblinking glare for as long as I can._

_To me surprise, she does not relent. Her head tilts in curiosity.  
_

"What's wrong with your face?" _she asks._

_I blink in surprise. Have I just been insulted?_

_My eyes bore into the cat-child, and she frowns sympathetically._

"Did somebody hurt you? If they did, tell me and I'll beat them up. I don't care if I get in trouble."

_I look at her and blink once. No._

_This confuses her_. "Then was it an accident?"

_Now that's a difficult question. One that would have been hard to answer even when I was unparalyzed._

_..._

_I did this to myself, child._

_I did not do so on purpose but I knew the risks of summoning that spell.  
_

_I just thought I was above them.  
_

_..._

_But I cannot express this through blinking alone.  
_

_So I simply blink twice. Yes._

_The child is crestfallen._ "That's sad. You seem like a nice old lady, even if your face is gross."

_I give her a hard stare.  
_

"But in, like a cool way," _the little cat-girl adds._

_My stare hardens._

_If I wasn't paralyzed, I would have taken this child over my knee by now.  
_

_Instead, I just sit there, having no other choice than to endure the disrespect in silence._

_The child notices my eyes twitch in their sockets._

"Oh, do you want me to leave you alone?" _she asks._

_I roll my eyes and blink twice. Yes.  
_

_The child nods and looks disappointed._

"That's okay. I'm not s’posed to talk to anyone anyway," _Finn rolls her eyes._ "Mom said I have to help pull weeds."

_I watch the child turn away and bury her gloved hands in the rich soil of the hospital gardens.  
_

_And at once I understand._

_Clearly, this little beast cannot distinguish the weeds from the more desirable plants._

_So she seems to be ripping up every plant she finds._

_Including my precious daisies.  
_

_Fustration twists in my paralyzed chest as the kitten grasps a handful of the delicate white blooms._

_She pulls them up until their roots rip free from the soil.  
_

_Then she throws them over her shoulder, where they land in a heap of dirt on the grass._

_I watch the uprooted daisies pile up and it brings me more sadness than I anticipated._

_These daisies are the only organisms in this hospital whose company I can tolerate._

_And now some ignorant child is laying waste to them._

_The situation is intolerable._

_I cannot sit by and watch this._

_Never mind my magic. At this moment I just want my voice back.  
_

_The echoing, demon-edged voice that sent Horde soldiers scrambling before me._

_I want to yell at Finn that my daisies are **not** weeds and she will feel the back of my hand if she doesn't get her filthy claws off them.  
_

_I want to make her afraid_

_I want to make her obey me_

_I want to have power again_

_over myself over anyone_

_But I can go on wanting until my bones turn to dust and it will not amend my situation one bit.  
_

_The rage boiling inside me does nothing but cause my right eyelid to twitch momentarily._

_And nothing else._

_I remain slumped in the padded embrace of my wheelchair._

_I am a chained beast snarling through the bars of its cage at this little kitten playing just out of reach._

_A beast that will die alone._

_Then, suddenly, Finn looks over her shoulder._

_Our eyes meet.  
_

"I don't wanna be here," _Finn mumbles._ "Do you?"

_The question catches me off guard. Curiosity quenches my anger.  
_

_I think it over for a moment, then I blink twice._

_Finn nods in agreement._

"It's not fair. I wanted to go to Aunt Scorpia's concert today. But mom was all like 'It's important to help at the hospital!'"

"And then mom was all like, 'listen to your mom!' And I hissed at her."

 _Finn sighs._ "I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. They make me so angry!"

"They treat me like I'm a baby. I keep telling them that I'm going to be eight years old in a month, but they don't listen!"

_The sudden revelation hits me like a blow to the chest.  
_

_This is too much, now. Too much._

_I have to close my eyes._

_I have to shut out the world for a moment and try to...preserve my grip on reality..._

_This child is seven. Seven years old._

_And I cannot imagine Adora and Catra having a child immediately after the war._

_There must have been time for recovery._

_And therapy. Years of it. Especially after what **I** put them through.  
_

_This means that I have been here for at least almost a decade._

_And in all that time I have not healed._

_And I never will._

_My gaze falls to my lap._

_In my mind, the words repeat themselves, over and over, like a broken voice-recording.  
_

_Ten years_

_Ten years in this prison._

_Ten years that I never needed nor asked for nor wanted  
_

_Ten years that have left me looking a hundred years older_

_I look back at the child, who at this stage has accumulated quite a pile of torn-up daisies at her feet._

_Then I hear a voice from above._

“Hey, kiddo.”

_I cannot look over my shoulder but I can feel somebody there.  
_

_Finn reacts to the figure behind me. "_ Hey, momma," _she says._

_My eyes strain upwards. There is a tall figure standing beside my wheelchair.  
_

_When I catch a glimpse of her, my mind reels.  
_

_There is a woman standing over me._

_She is at once both elegant and feral._

_I see long and messy hair that someone tried to tame by trussing it up in a ponytail, with limited success._

_I see a fancy coat - some kind of Bright Moon apparel - draped casually over one shoulder._

_Then I see her eyes. Blue and gold.  
_

_Just like that, the truth seizes me in its merciless claws. This is..._

_..._

_...no, this cannot be Catra._

_When I think of Catra, the image that emerges in my mind's eye is an unkempt little monster._

_A girl with her jaw always clenched defiantly and eyes either smoldering with anger or glistening with tears.  
_

_Always on the edge of a breakdown._ _Always starving for attention and approval._

_But now she is calmer than I have ever seen her before.  
_

_She is poised. Collected.  
_

_Her wounds have healed. Her scars have faded.  
_

_And she does not look at me. Not yet.  
_

_Her attention remains firmly locked on her daughter._

_I see her flash a grin at the child, before asking,_ “How's the gardening going?"

 _Finn pouts._ “I’m doing it, okay?” _Her tone is defensive_. “See, look at all the weeds I've pulled up already.”

_Catra’s gaze drops to the pile of soil and wounded daisies at Finn's feet. Then Catra..._

_...looks at me._

_She looks right into my bloodshot eyes for the first time in almost a decade.  
_

_I expect many things to happen at this point._

_I expect anger, or shouts, or tears.  
_

_I even expect her to launch herself at me and tear my throat open._

_she's threatened to do that before_

_I do not expect her to **smirk** at me.  
_

_But that's exactly what she does._

_She beholds my physical and mental hell and she...smirks._

_For a moment I am so angry I feel like I might die a second time.  
_

_But then a sadness falls across Catra's face. She sighs heavily and turns back to her child.  
_

"You haven't pulled up any weeds," _Catra says._ "But you certainly made a real mess of this poor old lady's flowers."

_...poor...old...lady?_

_Finn looks at the pile of uprooted daisies, then at the daisy she is in the process of uprooting, then at me._

_I fix her with the most imploring gaze my paralyzed face is still capable of making.  
_

_Finn's eyes widen in realization._ "Oh." _  
_

_Catra sighs again._ "Oh, Finn. I told you to be careful..."

_Regret flashes across Finn's face, but it is soon replaced by anger._

“But that's not my fault! How was I supposed to know they weren't weeds?”

_I look at Catra and notice she has begun tapping her foot._

_Obviously, this was not the response she wanted.  
_

“Why didn't you look at Perfuma's instructions?” _Catra asks, her voice steady.  
_

 _Finn bites her bottom lip._ "What instructions?" _she asks, obviously feigning confusion._

"You know what I mean," _says Catra._ "The piece of paper that told you _exactly_ what plants to pull up, so this wouldn't happen?"

_My eyes flick back to Finn, whose gaze has now fallen to the ground.  
_

_Ha!_ _Breaking eye contact during interrogation? T_ _he little fool may as well have confessed then and there.  
_

 _Instead, she mumbles something like._ “Oh, yeah, those instructions."

 _Catra's stare intensifies._ "Where are they?"

 _Finn mumbles louder._ "I...put them in my pocket…”

_I look back at Catra, who reaches into her gold-trimmed white coat and pulls out a crumpled-up piece of paper._

_It is full of carefully handwritten instructions and illustrations of various weeds, penned in child-friendly colors.  
_

“I found this in a wastepaper basket in the lobby,” _Catra says._

_There is no anger in her voice. Although I detect a note of disappointment._

_Finn appears guilty for a moment before her face creases in embarrassed anger._

“Fine!" _she shouts._ "I'll take the stupid paper! I didn't even want to be here anyway!”

_She attempts to grab the instructions, but Catra holds it out of her daughter's reach._

“Ah!” _Catra wags her finger._ “Too late, kitten. You've already in trouble.”

 _Finn's expression falls into despair._ "But, momma..."

 _I see Catra give her kitten a wilting gaze before issuing a single command._ "On your knees."

_My eyes widen._

_What little blood remains in my body seems to freeze in the vein._

_Have my ears turned traitor or did Catra just threaten to...?_

_I feel shocked and, at the same time, grotesquely fascinated._

_I look at Finn and see her shoulders slump._

_She sighs heavily, gazes up, and says,_ “Please, momma-”

"It's for your own good, Finn," _says Catra, cutting her off._ "Now on your knees."

"But there's people watching!"

"Yeah, you should've thought of that before you lied to me."

"That's not -"

 _Suddenly, Catra claps her hands together._ _As if by magic, Finn’s back straightens and her ears perk up.  
_

 _Catra regards Finn with a look of satisfaction, then reaches down and pats her lap._ "Come on. Don’t make this difficult."

_I watch this familiar display of discipline unfold, and I feel…_

_…what **am** I feeling?_

_Am I feeling horror? Concern for this little kitten?_

_By Etheria, have I grown soft already?_

_I mean, what did I expect?_

_Catra has to discipline her child. And it follows she would emulate the discipline_

_the **pain**_

_she knew as a child  
_

_There is logic to it.  
_

_A vicious, cyclical logic._

_Magic runs on cycles. The universe runs on cycles._

_Everything feeds into each other. Fire begets fire, pain begets pain, abuse begets..._

_..._

_Am I going to have to watch the beating?_

_Is Catra going to make me watch this child be punished?_

_Is that why she's here?_

_Does she think it will disturb me?_

_If so then she is wasting her time. I do not disturb easily._

_The world holds no surprises for a woman who has watched herself die.  
_

_But nonetheless,_ as _my eyes take in the sight of Finn kneeling on the grass…_

_…the memory rises in my head of Catra kneeling in the punishment cells of the Fright Zone._

_Helpless. Shivering. Her thin shoulders tensing in anticipation of the first blow._

_I gaze up at Catra from my wheelchair and wonder if she is confronting that same memory._

_I sit and watch Catra standing over her child._

_I wait for her to strike but she never does.  
_

_Instead, Catra kneels down too.  
_

_Finn shuffles closer to her mother until their knees are touching._

_The little cat-child is grumpy, there is no doubt about that._

_But she shows no fear._

_Her movements are practiced as if they've done this before._

_It almost looks like some kind of...meditation..._

_Some little ritual between mother and child._

_I watch, enraptured._

_Catra places both hands on Finn's shoulders._

_I expect Finn to flinch from her disciplinarian’s touch, but she does not.  
_

_In fact, Finn begins purring. And suddenly there is regret in her eyes._

"Step one,” _Catra begins._ “What have you done wrong, Finn?”

“I threw away the instructions,” _Finn mumbles. Her eyes dart to me, then back to her mother’s._ “And ruined the old lady's flowers.”

_With this confession, both Catra and Finn visibly relax. As if some weight has been lifted off their shoulders._

_I see Catra stroke her daughter's arms._ “Was that so hard?” _she says._

_Finn sniffles and wipes her nose._

“Okay, step two.” _Catra holds up two claws._ “Now you know you’ve done wrong, what are you going to say?”

 _The cat-child's throat tightens. She must be swallowing he_ r _tears._ "I’m sorry…”

"Good. But now here comes the hard part," _Catra smiles._ "Step three. Now that you've said sorry, what are you going to do?"

_Finn does not respond this time. So Catra leans in close, and I can just barely hear her whisper:_

“Think, kiddo. Actions are louder than words. You've messed up the flowers, but how can you fix them?"

_I watch as Finn's eyes harden in deep thought._

"Come on..." _Catra holds the child’s gaze and scratches behind her ears._ "Use those brains me and your momma gave you..."

 _I see Finn’s mouth move slowly as she forms the plan in her head._ _Suddenly, her blue eyes widen in epiphany._

“Why don't I put them in a vase?" _she suggests._

 _Catra grins._ "Sounds like a plan, kiddo. Your momma's in the lobby. Go ask her nicely for some water and a vase."

_Finn beams at this and nods enthusiastically.  
_

"Remember, ask her nicely," _says Catra, in a forbidding voice._ "No more hissing."

 _Finn nods again. She smiles at_ _Catra and Catra smiles back.  
_

_Catra claps her hands. Apparently, this means their little ritual is over._

_I watch as Finn rises from her knees and goes about collecting_ _the uprooted daisies._

_She gathers them into a bouquet which she clutches to her chest protectively.  
_

_She turns to leave. But before she does, she pads over to me.  
_

_And places a single daisy on my lap._

_A peace offering_

_Then I watch her scamper away across the hospital gardens._

_My eyes burn as they strain to follow her all the way to the edge of my peripheral vision._

_But eventually, she disappears.  
_

_I want to turn my head and see more of this cat-child. But I cannot._

_My mind wants what my body simply cannot give._

_My gaze falls to the daisy resting on my lap.  
_

_The stem is slightly crooked and several petals are missing.  
_

_But it is still, unmistakably, a daisy._

_It could still be saved if the child hurries back with the water._

_..._

_When I look back up again, I see Catra is staring at me._

_And her eyes are…_

_…angry._

_Ah, now **there’s** the Catra I know. _

_She stands there for a moment, her glare almost burning a hole in my robes._

_Then she speaks._ "You thought I was going to hit her, didn't you?"

_Our eyes meet again._

_I blink twice. Yes._

_A curious mixture of emotions flashes across Catra's face._

_She wears an expression of anger for a moment, then sadness the next._

_Eventually it is too much for her._

_She breaks eye contact with me, and takes a moment to looks out over the garden._

_Her hair shimmers in the warm moonlight._

"I gotta say, after all we went through with the war, I thought raising a kid would be a piece of cake."

"Finn proved me wrong. That girl is just as stubborn as I was. You should see her when she's having tantrums."

"But me and Adora, we have other's back every step of the way."

"Turns out there are other ways to raise a kid. You can be smart. You can be fair. You don't ever, ever have to...hurt..."

_And then Catra's face collapses in front of my eyes._

_Her hands reach up to her head and clutch at it, as if holding back the tears._

_When Catra speaks again her voice has thickened with emotion._

"It took a _lot_ of courage to bring her here. Knowing that she might see you."

"And trust me. We would _never_ have come here if you weren't as powerless as you are."

"Finn still has no idea what you did to us."

"We never told her. I mean, me and Adora tried to, but..."

_Catra falters for a moment._

_And in that moment I see the painful toll every second she spends in my presence is taking on her._

"When I was six years old, you looked me in the eye and said you would kill me."

"How could we ever explain something like _that_ to a child?"

"Finn is not like us. She's part of the first generation born in peacetime."

"To her, the Horde is just something in a history book."

"When she looks at you, she sees a sick old woman who can't hurt anyone. Which I suppose you _are_ now, aren't you?"

_We share a moment of silence._

_There is the sound of a commotion in the garden behind us._

_A group of patients. Some laughing, some crying.  
_

_A family, perhaps. Being reunited after a long stay in the hospital._

_I watch Catra clutch at her heart. It takes a moment for her to build up the strength to speak.  
_

"You know what the worst part about all of this is?"

"If it wasn't for you, I would never have met Finn."

"I would have died that day. We all would have died. But you saved us..."

_Catra turns and looks deep into my hollow and corrupted eyes._

_To my shame, I want to look away._

_But I cannot turn my head. My paralysis forces me to confront Catra face to face.  
_

"I used to think you were a monster. But now? I don't know what to think."

"And I do think about you, Shadow Weaver. A lot. Even when I don't want to..."

_I stare at Catra until my eyes burn, waiting for her to break away again._

_She does not. She meets my deadly glare with ease._

"I'm a woman who's made a lot of mistakes," _Catra concedes._ "But I'm not going to make any more."

"I'm never going to let Finn doubt that I love her."

"Because I remember how much it hurt when you hated me."

"So, in a way, you made all this possible."

_Catra's eyes well up. Her face contorts._

"You taught me how to love my daughter."

_I do not know at what point I started to cry too._

_But when my gaze falls I see teardrops have been falling on my lap for some time.  
_

_The delicate white fabric of my robe is stained with them.  
_

_My exhaustion is so absolute, I cannot even chide myself for this appalling display of weakness._

_I have to stop._

_I didn't even cry when the Spell of Obtainment tore my face away, and I am not going to start now._

_I muster all my coldness, all my stoicism, and use it as a bulwark against my despair..._

_...but years of loneliness and confusion burst through it in an unstoppable torrent._

_My eyes clench shut but the tears do not stop falling._

_I refuse this kindness. It is not real. This is all just some kind of...trick._

_Catra's tormenting me. That's what she's doing. Tormenting me as I tormented her._

_Tormenting me with all this new life and potential for the future because she knows I have no future._

_Just a long_

_long_

_descent into the grave._

_I wanted to die in that chamber. In the heart of the explosion that defeated the First One's guardian.  
_

_My death would have been my first and only gift to my daughters._

_A fresh start. A future free from shadows._

_And now I am a woman who does not want to live..._

_...sitting with the daughter she never wanted to raise._

_I threw away my chance at a family in my desperate quest for power.  
_

_And somehow, by some twist of fate, my power is gone_...

_...and I ended up with a family._

_..._

_No, I will not accept this.  
_

_If I cannot have magic and I cannot be feared then I cannot go on living._

_I do not care if the hospital is bright and beautiful and the nurses are gentle._

_Nor do I care if those I have hurt take pains to remember me and visit me and forgive the unforgiveable._

_I just want it all to end.  
_

_As I sink into the depths of despair, a warm hand touches my cold, limp cheek._

_gently_

_so gently_

_I open my eyes and see Catra is wiping the tears from my paralyzed face with the sleeve of her gold-trimmed coat._

"You must really hate this, don't you?" _she observes, and smiles through her own tears.  
_

_I blink twice. Yes._

_Things are quiet between us for a long time, then Catra whispers to me,  
_

"Do you want to die, Shadow Weaver?"

_The sound of birds singing in the hospital garden fills the long and cold silence that follows this question._

_Then I look up at Catra. Blink. Blink._

_Catra's gaze drops to her feet as my answer settles in her mind._

_Different emotions flash in her eyes and when she finally looks up again, I do not know which emotion she's settled on.  
_

_She takes the arm of my hovering wheelchair, and guides it around so I am facing the hospital._

_I focus with blurry, magic-scarred eyes on the figure who is approaching._

_Baby-blue eyes. Blonde hair that shines with the light of another universe._

_I see Adora. She sees me.  
_

_She has a vase of daisies in her hand and is carrying Finn on her broad shoulders.  
_

_Adora's expression is cautious but Finn does not hide her happiness. She waves at us._

_Then suddenly Catra's voice is in my ear._ "Would you try something with me, Shadow Weaver?"

"Why don't we sit here for a while, watch Adora and Finn play in the garden, and see if that changes your mind?"

_My eyes flick up towards Catra._

_Blink. Blink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a choice between sleeping and writing this chapter, and I chose the latter. Please let me know if you think this was the right choice.


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